Live On
by McInstry
Summary: Who was this girl that the Doctor cherished so much that he carried a picture of her around? - "…it's alright to remember her and love her. It's only right to." Amy, Rose, 11


"To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead." – Bertrand Russell

"Doctor? Who is this?" Amy held up a picture of blonde girl, her eyes inquisitive. The edges of the photo were worn, fold creases going down the center. The Doctor looked up from his conglomerate of wires and squinted. His shoulders tensed when he saw who the photo was of. He hastily put the wires down and stormed forward, all but ripping the picture out of her hands

"Amy, why do you have this?" The picture was clutched in his hand with gentle fingers.

"I was looking for the sonic and found it in your pocket." She didn't look the least bit ashamed to have been going through his things.

"And you felt that it was your right to just unfold it and look at it?" Amy blinked in surprise. The Doctor had never gotten mouthy with her like this before. He seemed defensive… almost _protective._

"I was just curious." She said cautiously, unsure of how to react to the Doctor when he was angry at her.

"Well don't be." He folded the picture carefully and put it in his pocket before going back to working on the TARDIS' wiring.

Two weeks passed and the Doctor still hadn't brought up the person in the picture. Amy was growing impatient if she was honest with herself. She wanted to know who the blonde in the picture was. She was obviously someone important to the Doctor, and that made her even more interested.

Who was this girl that the Doctor cherished so much that he carried a picture of her around?

After two months, Amy had all but given up on learning who the girl was. She wasn't going to pry no matter how curious she was.

After a particularly messy adventure including a swamp and a local militia hell-bent on killing off all alien visitors, Amy was all out of comfy jumpers to wear. The TARDIS had ushered her into the wardrobe where she found a reddish-pink sweater with the words 'Punky Fish' on the back. She shrugged and pulled it on over her t-shirt. It smelled a bit like mint and oranges – pleasant and comforting. Amy ran her hand over the brown suit jacket right next to where the sweater had been and wondered who had worn it. It was soft and looked as if it had been well-loved.

She shook her head and went to the galley to get a cup of tea.

Maybe that could help warm the chill in her bones.

The Doctor was already there with a pot of tea sitting on the table with a few of her favorite chocolate biscuits. He motioned to a mug on the counter with an absent hand, not looking up from the book he was reading. Amy stared at him for a moment. It was odd to see him not bouncing about or fixing something. He looked up at her and frowned.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." She turned and grabbed her mug. The ill-disguised gasp made her turn around. "What is it?"

"Amy, where did you find that jumper?"

Amy frowned. The only other time the Doctor had reacted this way was when she'd taken that picture of the blonde girl from his pocket… "Is this hers?" She asked, still going about making her tea. A little bit of milk, one sugar, and a quick stir. She sat down at the chair across from him and gave him an expectant look. "Well?"

"It is, yes."

Amy nodded and put down her teacup. She unzipped the jumper and handed it over to him. "What was her name?"

The Doctor took the jumper from her with a slight frown. "Amy…" He said warningly as he folded the clothing item with great care. He put it off to the side, taking care that there was nothing that could get on it.

"Well she's obviously important to you."

"Was. She _was_ important to me."

Amy snorted, used to the Doctor's inability to admit to his emotions. "Well you clearly still care about her since you carry around a picture of her."

"Not anymore." He took the picture out of his pocket and threw it carelessly on top of the red jumper. Even though it wasn't damaged in any way, Amy saw him flinch at the way he'd treated the photo. Her eyes softened at the somewhat petulant way he disregarded his own emotions. Her poor Doctor, so damaged and alone that he thought he couldn't act like he cared about anyone.

"It's okay to want to remember her, y'know. And care about her. In fact," Amy reached for the photo and unfolded it with gentle fingers, "I think she would've appreciated it." She looks down at the picture and finds herself smiling back at the 2D rendition of the blonde girl. "She's beautiful."

"She is." Amy looks up and sees that the Doctor's gaze is fixed on the picture in her hands. She hands it over and he runs his finger down the side, an apology for having been purposefully careless with the picture.

"Her name is Rose. Rose Tyler." He still didn't look up and Amy didn't press. This was most that he'd told her about anything personal and far be it from her to push too hard, lest he go back into his proverbial turtle shell. "When I met her, I was so broken and tired…" The Doctor sighed before finally meeting her eyes. "She made me better."

"Tell me about this picture? Where were you?" Amy pointed at the sky in the background of the picture. "It obviously isn't earth."

The Doctor shook his head. "We were on a resort planet. It was a day free of people chasing us, a break as an apology for our last adventure."

"What happened?"

The Doctor flinched at the memory. "She got hurt. Badly."

The memory usually starred in his darkest of nightmares, shoving aside even the destruction of his planet. Thinking about it, it made him flinch internally.

-:-

_It'd been two weeks since she'd been taken. He was frantic in searching for her. The mercenaries of Glimortare were ruthless and they had her. He hadn't slept since the day he'd found out that she was missing. The local rebels had offered to help him find her, but none of it was enough. Her being separated from him for just an hour was too long. _

_And she was with a group of men who had no hang-ups about killing or torturing or raping. Every time he thought about what she could be going through he felt ill. If she was even alive, he could fix bruises and cuts. But if they'd violated her… How would he fix her mind? _

_When he finally found her (huddled in a corner in dank, cold cell) he'd thanked gods he didn't believe in. He'd picked her up and gotten her out of there as fast as he could. _

_Only when he finally got back to the TARDIS did he notice the extent of her injuries. Blood drenched his suit jacket from carrying her. He'd her down on her back, but quickly turned her over because that seemed to be where most of her injuries were. Once she was on her stomach, he peeled away the blood soaked remains of the white vest her captors had given her to wear. _

_He held back a sickened wretch at the sight of her back. He'd seen so much blood and gore before… But to see her skin mangled like this was horrible. There were cuts on her upper back, some shallow and barely bleeding, and others deep and practically oozing red life-liquid. The middle section of her backs was riddled with burns. In some areas, her epidermis was completely gone, leaving the skin red like sunburn. Other burns were deep, well into her dermis; white blisters just at the surface. The lower part of Rose's back was left blessedly bare, the skin smooth and perfect. _

_The Doctor pulled himself together, categorizing what he would need to fix her. _

_It had taken him twelve hours just to fix her back. Even then, there were scars that would remain on her skin for the rest of her life. _

_The rest of her body had suffered from more minor burns – cigarette shaped burns that he fixed easily enough. Her arms were covered in shallow knife gashes which were also easy to fix. Rose's face and neck held a sick plethora of finger shaped bruises and tiny scratches from being shoved against something hard and abrasive. Her legs were bruised and cut. Her ribs were prominently visible, their harsh sloping standing out in a sickly fashion of someone extremely malnourished. _

_But the thing that sickened him the most was her feet. _

_The bottoms were slashed, and her Achilles tendon was slit. _

_He swallowed and wiped his face with his bloody hands before going on. _

_He had to fix her. _

_Only when every last of her injuries was seen to and he'd administered a powerful painkiller and sedative, did he finally get himself out of his bloody clothing. He took the universe's quickest shower to rid himself of the two weeks' worth of grime and Rose's blood. The TARDIS provided him with a set of soft pajamas which he pulled on emotionlessly. _

_He was still on autopilot. His mind had locked away his emotions while he'd been fixing Rose. But as he moved to her side, saw her so tiny and pale and helpless, he felt all those emotions rush back. _

_The fear of losing her, the anxiety of not knowing what was happening to her, and finally the pain of seeing the extent of her injuries. All of it came to him in a flood. _

_He fell into the chair beside her bed with a sob. _

"_Oh, Rose." He picked up her hand and held it to his face, wetting it with his tears. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" His voice was hoarse, cracking as he choked on his tears. _

_Rose awoke a week later, groggy and bit high from the anesthetic she'd been on every hour of every day. _

"_Do-," She coughed abruptly, her throat as dry as the Sahara from lack of use. He'd been in the bathroom the TARDIS had adjoined to the medlab, showering. Despite the closed door, he still heard her. He turned the water off hastily, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist with Olympic speed. _

_He was at her side, dripping wet and chest heaving, his eyes wide and anxious. "Rose!" _

_She blinked at him blearily. "Y're all wet." Her words flowed together, slurred as if she was drunk. _

"_I was in the shower." He sat down in the chair beside her bed and took her hand. "How do you feel?" His thumb played over the soft skin of her knuckles. _

_Rose shrugged. "Wha 'appen'd?" _

_The Doctor blinked. She didn't remember? "You got hurt."_

_She nodded and snuggled her head into her pillow. "M'tired." _

_The Doctor moved his free hand up to touch her face. His palm cradled her cheek and breathed out quietly, her warm breath against his skin. "Then sleep."_

"_M'kay."_

"_And Rose?" She opened one eye. "Promise me you'll wake up?"_

"'_k." _

_With that, she fell back asleep._

_The Doctor stayed there for what had to be an hour, just staring at her and stroking her hair and face. _

_He'd fallen asleep next to her. The nudging of her arm woke him._

"_Rose?" He blinked tiredly and looked over at her. Rose's face was covered in tears, her arms cradling herself. He sat up swiftly, reaching for her. "Oh, Rose." The Doctor pulled her into his arms. _

"_I remember." She sobbed over and over again. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. His poor girl. She hid her face in his neck as she choked on her breath. Her whole body was shaking and he tugged the blanket up around her shoulders in hopes that maybe it would help. It didn't. What did help was him holding her tighter, massaging her scarred back, and kissing her hair. _

_She quieted after what felt like years. The Doctor tried to pull back, but she held tight to his shirt, not letting him move. _

"_I'm sorry." He chanted it over and over again. She eventually fell asleep against him, exhausted from her tears. _

_The planet of Alegooria was beautiful. It had been warm and bright and friendly. Most of all, it was safe. Safe was good. Safe was what Rose deserved after Glimortare. _

_The beaches of Alegooria were legendary throughout many galaxies. It was the perfect sort of place to let Rose unwind. When she planned to lounge at the private pool for the better part of a day, he was right there with her. Because he was unable to take his eyes off of her. He was terrified that something would happen to her again. Even though Alegooria was safe, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving her alone. He now needed visible, tangible proof that she was alright. Simply _knowing_ wasn't enough anymore. _

_Rose had become restless after two days of just lounging about. She asked him to take her to one of the beaches she'd seen from her view above everything. _

_The diamond-like sand was hot and the water was turquoise and bathwater-warm. He laid himself out on the blanket they'd brought. Rose had shuffled for a bit, her bare feet digging into the scorching sand, seeking the coolness of the sand underneath it. She plopped down next to him, still wearing her cover up._

"_I thought you hated tan lines?" The Doctor said, motioning towards the clothing. He could tell she as warm. The planet was tropical and even he had removed his jacket due to the heat. _

"_Rose…" He reached up and tugged at her cardigan. _

"_I don't want anyone to see them." She said, pulling her cardigan back into place. "They're ugly." _

"_I'm sorry I couldn't remove all of them." He looked at her sadly, stroking her arm through the thin fabric of her cover-up._

"_It's not your fault." Rose smiled up at him, her eyes showing him nothing but reassurance – none of the accusations he thought he deserved lingered there. She was too accepting of him and his downfalls. It made him feel unworthy. "I just won't wear many sleeveless tops anymore." She was still smiling, even as he internally cringed. _

"_I don't think the scars should stop you from wearing them." She frowned now and gripped at her cardigan self consciously. He looked down at her face, the same as before with a few new scars born from her suffering. His hand moved of its own accord to touch the scratch above her lip. "You're just as beautiful now as you were before." She flushed and he smiled to himself. _

_This time, when he tugged on the cover up, she let it slide off her arms. He leaned down and kissed her shoulder as she nuzzled into his side. _

-:-

Amy blinked back tears. She couldn't imagine the Doctor letting something like that happen to her. But, then again, he'd probably never thought Rose would get so hurt. "You never take me to places that dangerous."

The Doctor smiled bitterly. "Back then I was so full of wanderlust. And so was Rose. I was afraid that if I slowed down, even the slightest bit, that travelling with me would lose its excitement and she'd want to leave. So we'd go anywhere and everywhere, taking no heed to how dangerous it could be." He stroked Rose's picture. "But after that, I couldn't bear seeing her in more pain. Our travels were strictly safe things. Or they were supposed to be." He smiled again, but this time it was a genuine one. "Rose was so jeopardy friendly. I took her to visit a hospital, she gets possessed. We go to see Elvis; she gets her face sucked from her body." And the light mood passed as quickly as it had come. "Those things were easy enough to save her from… But this, I had no idea what to do. The physical things were easy enough to fix, but the rest of it… I was helpless."

"It sounds like you did alright." Amy reached for his hand, the same hand that had so long ago cradled Rose's. The Doctor tried not to flinch from the memory, the sudden longing to have her hand in his. It was odd, when these urges to have her back came on.

He'd see a chip shop and think 'Rose would love that!' But she wouldn't be there to share it with. Jewelry she would've liked riddled his dressing table. A few of her jumpers, preserved by the TARDIS, were in his room, fresh with her scent.

While a part of him – a large part of him, truthfully – wanted her back, he knew it was best for her to be with her family, with the metacrisis. She had a chance there, a chance for children and a job and a peaceful death.

Noticing that he was lost in thought, Amy stood up and cleared up the dishes. After she was done, her hands damp and pruney, she patted the Doctor on the head.

"I'm sorry she's gone. I would've loved to meet her." She leaned down and kissed his forehead in a sisterly gesture. "And it's alright to remember her and love her. It's only right to." With that said, she walked off to her room for a kip.

Maybe the Doctor would tell her more about Rose or his other companions now. Maybe he'd realize that loving people was okay and allowed. Maybe she could help him understand that.

"A word is dead when it is said. Some Say. I say it just begins to live that day." – Emily Dickinson


End file.
